


But If I Kiss You Where It's Sore

by spockandawe



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Awkward Flirting, Developing Relationship, M/M, Pale Romance | Moirallegiance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-03-18
Updated: 2016-03-18
Packaged: 2018-05-27 09:38:26
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,665
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6279304
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spockandawe/pseuds/spockandawe
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Eridan flirts with all the subtlety of a brick to the face. Which is good, really, because brick-to-the-face is about the level of subtlety where you start being able to pick up basic social hints. Actually, that’s not even fair, because your first hint was when <em>Karkat</em> clued into what was happening. There was some pointed glaring (pretty indistinguishable from garden variety Karkat glaring, or even I-enjoy-being-in-your-presence Karkat glaring), until he finally stood up, said something about needing to charge his husktop and stomped upstairs. Leaving you and Eridan alone in their recreation block.</p>
            </blockquote>





	But If I Kiss You Where It's Sore

**Author's Note:**

  * For [CurlicueCal](https://archiveofourown.org/users/CurlicueCal/gifts).



                Eridan flirts with all the subtlety of a brick to the face. Which is good, really, because brick-to-the-face is about the level of subtlety where you start being able to pick up basic social hints.

                Actually, that’s not even fair, because your first hint was when _Karkat_ clued into what was happening. There was some pointed glaring (pretty indistinguishable from garden variety Karkat glaring, or even I-enjoy-being-in-your-presence Karkat glaring), until he finally stood up, said something about needing to charge his husktop and stomped upstairs. Leaving you and Eridan alone in their recreation block.

                Eridan, being Eridan, waited maybe ten seconds before making a move. Honestly, you probably wouldn’t have even noticed if you weren’t still wondering what the fuck was up with Karkat. But now you’re aware when he yawns and stretches so that his leg just barely brushes against yours. Or when he asks what you’re doing and leans over on the couch so his head is almost resting on your shoulder.

                You’re pretty adrift. Even after realizing that oh, _flirting_ , you’re… pretty adrift. You’re chatting with Jake, which is a nice clear (stinging) reminder of what not-flirting looks like. You can talk to Jake on autopilot while you try to process what’s happening right now. And fail, just to be clear. You don’t have a single solitary clue what to do here.

                Eridan eventually asks if he can get you anything to drink, and is so clear about oh, he can get you _anything_ you want, _anything at all_ , that you like to flatter yourself that even without Karkat you might have picked up that _something_ was happening by now. Hopefully. And you know what, while Eridan’s out of the room making you tea, you shoot Karkat a message.

  


\--timaeusTestified [TT] began trolling carcinoGeneticist [CG]\--  
  
TT: Okay, so.  
TT: Please tell me that Eridan’s not trying to cheat on you right now.  
CG: WHAT THE FUCK?  
CG: FIRST, GO EDUCATE YOURSELF ON QUADRANTS, YOU XENONORMATIVE SACK OF BULGES.  
CG: SECOND, STOP MESSAGING ME WHILE YOU’RE HOOKING UP WITH MY MATESPRIT.  
CG: THIRD, IF YOU’RE NOT GOING TO HOOK UP WITH HIM.  
CG: JUST.  
CG: PLEASE TRY TO LET HIM DOWN EASY.  
  
\--carcinoGeneticist [CG] has blocked timaeusTestified [TT]!--

  


                Well. Okay then.

  


\--timaeusTestified [TT] began trolling tipsyGnostalgic [TG]\--  
  
TT: Quick question, I don’t have much time to work with, help urgently needed.  
TT: So if, hypothetically, a troll was trying to pick me up pale.  
TT: What do I do?  
TG: omg REALLY??? :D  
TG: WHO?  
TG: no no wait its totally eridan isnt it, I bet you ten bucks its eridan  
TG: nepeta says she bets me that its eridan too but thats not right we need someone to DISAGREE with us to do the betting thing, right?  
TG: you should totally bet against us, because thats definitely how this works!  
TT: Slow your roll, Miss Lalonde. Reread that last message: What do I do?  
TG: well um?  
TG: that seems like a kind of pale advicey thing  
TG: soooooo  
TG: seems kinda inappropriate right now  
TG: *shrug*  
TG: yeah karkat agrees with me and also he says i should block you too  
TT: Good to know my friends are conspiring to be as unhelpful as possible while I’m completely lost at sea, thanks.

 

                You’re pretty sure you could get some decent advice out of her if you had the chance to push a little, but you can hear Eridan coming back with the tea now, so. Looks like you’re winging this.

                See, the thing is… you’re not _actually_ opposed to this. You’re not convinced that humans are wired for pale romance, but you’re not convinced they’re _not_ either. Like you said, you don’t have a single solitary fucking clue what to do. You don’t know what signals he’s supposed to be giving off, or how you’re supposed to respond to them, none of it. It took you years of watching old movies and reading old books to work out the scripts for plain old standard issue human romance, and it’s not like you’ve even managed to do a decent job with that.

                Pale romance, in the abstract? A quadrant for emotional support and intimacy? Yeah, you like that a lot. And you and Eridan _get_ each other in a way you think neither of you really wants to talk out. As far as your (very limited) understanding goes, it seems like it could be… nice. It seems like he could be nice. If you had any idea of what to _do_ , of course.

                So you decide do nothing. You’re definitely not freezing up. You’re just buying yourself a little time. You can dick around on your computer some more, shoot the shit with Jake, and cautiously almost sort of try to observe Eridan.

                You may or may not have been educated in the ways of love by a steady diet of cheesy romance media. So your first very original move is when Eridan hands you your cup of tea, and you let your fingers brush against his as you take it. You’re distracted enough watching his fins flush violet out of the corner of your eye that you almost spill tea all over your keyboard. So smooth. The smoothest. Maybe later Roxy will let you dissect this whole tangle with her, help you figure out how to people properly.

                After that you’re lost again, totally blanking on ideas, but it actually works out okay. Eridan sits down beside you, and even someone like you can tell that he’s all fidgety and flustered. Hey, makes a guy feel appreciated. He asks if the tea is okay, and you know that script, so even if you’re not breaking new conversational ground, you’re at least managing to keep up, which is good.

                Even while you’re acting like your attention is almost completely on your computer, you’re painfully conscious of Eridan next to you (unless you should be paying him more attention? but you weren’t before and you still don’t know what to do, why is everything so complicated?). You’re aware of where his legs stretch out right next to yours. There’s only an inch or two between your knees. You might not know how to do the conversation thing like a real boy, but you can do basic physical actions, right? It only takes a few minutes to nerve yourself into shifting so you can put your tea on the coffee table. And nudging your leg just barely to the side, so that it’s pressed right up against his.

                Both of you are watching your screen, but you really don’t think either of you are paying attention to it at all. You know all your focus is on that little point of contact between you, the contact he isn’t breaking, the way he’s gone all stiff and nervous, and you get it, you really do get it— Eridan takes a breath, leans over to point out something on your screen and ask an empty question, total fluff. The point is how he doesn’t lean back, the way he stays almost, _almost_ pressed against your side. The point is how he leaves his hand resting on your leg.

                Your eyes are still fixed on your screen. You’re not sure you remember how to look away. But you do lean over enough to close that last little distance. And you manage to take one hand off your keyboard and move it to rest on top of his.

                Is this angle awkward? Fuck, this angle is probably awkward. You could have done this better. Maybe if you moved your other hand, would that have worked better? Too late to undo it now, and it would probably be weird to switch it up now. Or perhaps you should have put your arm on his leg instead?

                And heh, both of you are frozen now. You made the last move, it’s his turn now, is what you would say if the rules of social interaction made any sense. But also, you’re out of ideas and out of moves. You don’t have any idea what comes next, so you’re sure as hell hoping Eridan does.

                It’s not really that long, but it feels like a hundred years before he clears his throat (nervously, he’s nervous too) and says, “So… we really doin’ this?”

                It takes a few tries before your voice works, but, “Yeah” That’s… not even close to being sufficient. You can do better. “I feel like I should warn you that I don’t have a clue _what_ I’m doing, but… I’m game.” You let yourself smile. “Be gentle with me.”

                That startles him into a laugh, but you can also see his fins go violet again. That’s good, that’s really good. Human cues are hard enough, and you wish you’d studied up a little more on troll physiology, but it’s something you can work on.

                Eridan nuzzles up a little closer to you, leans his head down on your shoulder. An unhelpful corner of your brain suggests that you play this like a classic scene from ye olde yaoi, but fortunately, most of you has better judgment than that.

                You _do_ almost lean your head against his, before you catch yourself and realize that impaling yourself on his horns might not be the most romantic way to start the evening. Quick, what’s another cheesy romance move? Your hand is just sitting on his, so you switch up your grip. You take his hand with _purpose_ , slip your fingers loosely between his, let your thumb brush along his knuckles. Trolls are much more sturdily built than humans. If he clenched his fist right now, he’d probably break all your fingers. Does that count as romantic for trolls? Who knows, but it’s sure doing it for you.

                You clear you throat. “Just to be clear, when I say that I don’t have a clue what I’m doing, that is absolutely what I meant.”

                He snickers. “So be gentle with, you, yeah. You know that line sounds like you stole it from porn, right?”

                Pale porn? Well. That sounds like something you’ll have to look into sometime in the near future. But right now, you’re much more focused on how you can feel his cheek move when he smiles. He shakes his hand free of yours, and you’re stung for a moment—what did you do wrong? But he only turns his hand over and lets his fingers tangle with yours again. His thumb is brushing against your palm—does this count as caressing? It feels like this should count as caressing—and you’re very, very aware of just how many nerve endings you have in your hands.

                Eridan twists around just enough that he can see your face. You don’t know what kind of expression you even have right now, but whatever he sees, he smiles wider. “No idea at all? Really?”

                You can feel yourself starting to go red. You’re grateful for your shades, at least. “You’ve plumbed the depths of my knowledge, bro. And by knowledge, I mean educated guesses.”

                “An’ you still want to do this?”

                Fuck, you’re definitely blushing now. “That is what I said.”

                He wriggles around—this would be much easier if he’d just put your hand down, but nope, dude has a solid grip and, well, it’s not exactly like you want to stop holding hands anyways—but when the tangle of limbs resolves into a sustainable position, he’s lying with his head in your lap, with his face just barely turned into your stomach. He meets your eyes for a moment, even through your shades, then lets his eyes slowly close. Is that a trust display? This really would have been much easier if you’d had some warning and had gotten a chance to study up on xenobiology first. And you almost think you can feel him purring. Trolls are insectoid, you know that—there has to be some word that’s a better biological fit, but now that you’ve thought purr, you can’t _stop_ thinking it. And maybe you kind of starting to understand why Roxy enjoys keeping certain feline domestic parasites around the house.

                Okay, you can do this. You are definitely a person who is capable of winging social situations. Eridan still has your one hand held against his chest, and your other hand is keeping your laptop from getting edged out of your limited lap real estate.

                …You should probably put down the computer. Right.

 _So_. Once that’s taken care of, you are left with one (1) free hand, to do with as you please. You put it on Eridan’s head and scritch, just like he was an actual cat. “So if, hypothetically, I was looking to steal more pale flirting strategies from porn. In that very hypothetical situation, what kind of thing would I do next?”

                Eridan sighs happily and nuzzles up against your hand. Fuck, that is cute. You’ve got a legitimate case of the dokis over here. He’s talking though, and you’re getting distracted—“That’s. Nn. A pretty good start.”

                You scritch a little harder. When your fingers bump into the base of his horns, he shivers all over. “You like that?”

                “Mmm—”

                Your ears are burning, but you can’t resist pushing a little harder. “Tell me what you like.”

                His eyes shoot open and you can actually see him blush. “What, really?”

                “Tell me.”

                When he shuts his eyes this time, he buries his face in your stomach. You don’t move your one hand out of his hair, and he’s still got a death grip on the other, kneading at your palm in time with the head scritches you’re giving him, so you think you’ll go ahead and assume he likes what you’re doing. But it still takes him a moment to say anything.

                “Your hands on me. They feels good.”

                That surprises you into a laugh. “Who’s saying porno lines now?”

                He smiles against your stomach. “Human porn is possibly the single most boring form of erotica ever created in any version of any universe. Even the cherubs do better with just their one quadrant, at least they get interesting about it. What, you’ve got maybe a quadrant and a half tops, but the pitch ain’t even tagged pitch, so who knows how you’re supposed to _find_ it.”

                You run your fingers up one of his horns, around the curves and out to the point, and let yourself be a little flattered at the way his breath hitches. “Or maybe humans are just so good at romance that we figure all of it out without even trying. What else?”

                “Oh, please,” he snorts. “I’ve watched John trying to flirt with Terezi, an’ it’s the saddest fuckin’ attempt at pitch I’ve ever seen. Also, um. Your claws.”

                “My nails, you mean? They’re normal, for a human. What about them?” Is he going to let you dissect this with him? You really, _really_ hope he’s going to let you break pale romance down, top to bottom. You bet he will, if it’s about him. You could talk about this for hours, and you kind of think he’ll let you do it.

                For now though, he turns his head from your stomach (it feels colder without him there) and reaches up to snag the hand resting on his horn. He holds your hands for you to examine, his thumbs on your palms, his fingers curling yours forward. “See? Look how blunt they are. Downright scandalous.” He raises his eyebrows and lets his mouth turn up at the corner. “I know you don’t deserve proper credit, since human claws never really get past the fuckin’ useless stage, but lucky for you I’m graciously willing to be swept off my feet regardless.”

                You grin. “Accidental kink points, nice. So pale kink keys off safety then? Or risk? Tell me more.”

                “Yeah, that’s part a’ it. Lettin’ you near my gills an’ fins, that’s part of it too, but that’s only for seadwellers. Necks too, you wouldn’t want to let someone in there and rip your throat out.”

                He tips his head back to demonstrate, and even if you’re still new to the whole pale paradigm, you can’t look away from that vulnerable stretch of neck. You can’t resist. “Now, okay, stop me if I’m doing this wrong, but—”

                When you press your lips to his neck, he clutches at your shirt (you think you hear a seam pop). You hesitate for a moment, but what the hell, you’ve been making good guesses so far. You pull back just a hair, only enough to barely, _barely_ set your teeth against his throat. You only hold it for a few seconds, but you can feel how fast he’s breathing underneath you, and when you pull back, he’s violet all the way out to the tips of his fins.

                “Movin’ a little fast, then?”

                You wince. “Sorry, I didn’t mean—”

                “No, no!” He grins, sheepishly. “I mean. It was. Ain’t like I minded it or anything. But are you _sure_ you haven’t watched any pale porn? ‘Cause it really fuckin’ feels like you’ve watched a lot of pale porn.”

                You force yourself relax enough to smile back at him. He wraps his arms around your chest, leaning up against you again. With him down there looking up at you like this, it really does feel like you’re in an old yaoi, god. “So, this pale porn I keep hearing so much about. What else is in there?”

                Eridan takes a breath, pauses. Tries again. “You want me to explain an entire romantic genre?”

                Yes? But you shrug, get a hand on his horns again. “I wouldn’t argue with that.”

                “Well too bad, ‘cause I can’t. Kar would, but if I called him down right now—okay, it would be objectively fuckin’ hilarious to see him get that flustered, but he’d probably kick me out of his ‘coon for a week, so sorry, you’re shit out a’ luck on the Karkat Vantas romantic lecture hour.”

                “Any other ideas? Because remember how I said I didn’t know what I was doing? Everything I’ve done since that point has just been a series of very lucky guesses.”

                He untangles himself from your lap then, pulls away and sits up. You’re only a little worried that you did something wrong—just normal everyday levels of fretting, nothing immediate or significant. You wish you could read the signals he’s putting off a little better, though. If you _could_ persuade Karkat to teach you all the background shit you’re missing, it would make everything so much easier.

                Eridan reaches out. “Can I—?”

                Can he what? It is a mystery. But given the circumstances… yeah, you think he can.

                He goes for your shades first, which, despite everything, is still kind of a shock. They’re so much a part of you that sometimes you forget that hey, they come off. And Eridan was real before, obviously, but without your shades in the way, he’s almost _too_ real, and you only hold his gaze for a moment before you have to shut your eyes.

                The next thing you feel is his hand on your cheek. His thumb is brushing over and over your cheekbone, and his other hand comes up to cradle the back of your neck. You shiver, just a little, at the sensation.

                You keep your eyes shut, do your best to relax into the touch. But hm. It feels nice, definitely, but it’s not working for you the same way it did for Eridan. He notices it too, after a moment, and sighs.

                “Humans ain’t built right for proper pale romance, then?”

                You have your eyes shut, still focusing on the sensation of his hands against you. “Maybe not naturally. It is good, I’m just not wired with the same natural responses you are.” You reach up for his face too, and when you cup his cheek he leans into your hand and you can feel him start to purr again. “There is more to this than face touching, right? Like I said, I just need some framework for how this pale thing works, and I can see how I fit into there.”

                He sighs. “Maybe Kar will think I’m so pitiful that he won’t kick me out a’ his ‘coon. I’ll give him a yell.”

                “No, no. We can work this out. You said I keep using porn lines. What’s your favorite pale porn?”

                Eridan laughs. “My favorite _porn_?”

                “Yeah, bro. Tell me how it goes, and there we go, there’s one outline for pale romance right there. It’s only a little piece of the puzzle, but you’re not explaining the whole quadrant to me.”

                He takes his hands off you—and hm, even if you aren’t dealing with the same physiological responses as he is, you definitely would have liked him to stay. Interesting—and flops back down into your lap, his face right back against your stomach. Even hiding like that, you can see how purple his fin is.

                “Okay, so the plot is—and _don’t laugh at me_ —the plot is that you’ve got this, like highblood officer type on a fleet ship. An’ being a noble, seadwellin’ kind a’ troll, she was a little. You know. On the edgy side. Maybe a little murderous”

                You smile, just a _little_. “Please tell me I’m not going to have to talk you down from highblood rages or anything like that.”

                “ _Hey_ , that’s a hurtful, ignorant stereotype, an’ I’m hardly murderous at all, these days.” When he laughs, you can feel his breath puff against you through your shirt. “ _Anyways_. She’s on the ship and gettin’ out a’ hand, an’ her bein’ a high violet and so strong, nobody’s able to stop her with force. So they’re all fleein’ in terror, but there’s this one scrappy little cavalreaper who’s been in recovery from a war injury. An’ she sees her comin,’ an’ is just so struck by the deep, inner pain an’ torment she can see in the officer’s eyes—“

                You can’t help a single chuckle.

                “— _don’t laugh—_ the inner pain an’ torment, that she decides she has to do somethin’. An’ at great personal risk an’ despite a light flesh wound—mostly just cosmetic, but it's real sweet—she gets her hand on the officer’s cheek, an’ that’s that. She soothes her down right out of it, until the officer’s curled up with her head in her lap. Just. Pettin’ her hair and talkin’ through all a’ it, right in the middle a’ the ship where everyone can see.” He pauses, and adds defensively. “It’s real romantic.”

                Well, you caught ‘head in lap’ and you caught ‘hair petting.’ You can take a hint, and Eridan makes a pleased little ‘mmn’ noise when you start rubbing at the base of his horns. You venture, “It does sound interesting… but I think it may lose something in the retelling.”

                He sighs. “It’s real deep. There’s a part where the cavalreaper vows to eradicate all native life on the planet they’re approachin’ so that the officer can swim in the open seas again. An’ it’s silly a’ course, because a yellowblood won’t ever be makin’ any military decisions like that, but it’s the sweetest thought.”

                “ _Definitely_ loses something in the retelling.” You take a steadying breath. “Maybe you could show it to me?”

                He bolts upright, but you don’t even have time to worry you might have fucked up, because he’s beaming from ear to ear. You’ve never ever seen him smile like this. He grabs your hands and starts to stand, pauses, and turns back to press one kiss to your lips, then another to your neck. You can feel the points of his teeth, and can’t help the way your breath catches. You could… get used to that.

                Eridan stands, tugging you to your feet behind him, and holds your hand the entire way up the stairs. You stumble a little when he pulls up in front of Karkat’s door, but he just drops your hand to put his arm around your waist instead, and there’s barely any awkward pause before you put your arm around him too.

                Eridan bangs on Karkat’s door with his free hand and yells, “Hey, _Kar—_ ”

                “ _If either of you fuck up the other one, I’ll die of a rage-induced aneurysm and it will be both your faults._ ” A breath. “I’m clearing out, but you’d better let me know when you’re done, I had _plans_ for this evening, and they didn’t involve making my hive a hot date spot for two uneducated idiots trying to fumble their way through the steps of a _very nuanced quadrant_.”

                Eridan’s laughing when he tugs you along into his room, and his door has only barely shut behind you when you hear Karkat’s bang open. He even manages to walk angrily, but you catch something that might be a muttered ‘good luck,’ as he stomps down the stairs.

                Eridan pulls a case out from a drawer that’s filled with… yes, a writhing mass of overlarge, distressingly moist grubs. You can’t see any labels, but Eridan seems to know which is which, and you can’t help watching with fascinated semi-horror while Eridan rifles through them.

                You clear your throat. “I would have thought Karkat would want to know all the juicy details.”

                “Oh, he’ll pretend he’s above it all for a night or two, tops, before he decides he wants to find out everything about everything that happened. It’ll be downright fuckin’ hilarious watchin’ him try to piece it together, ‘cause he won’t ask either a’ _us_ , that would be too simple.”

                He finds the grub he’s after (apparently) and pulls it free, tucking a few attempted escapees back into the bin and shoving it back in the drawer. Eridan crosses to his desk to fiddle around with his husktop and the grub, and you don’t know troll tech or how pale romance really works, but you _do_ know that all the humans joke about troll piles all the time. You rifle through your sylladex, and there we go, score, you have a pile of clean laundry you still haven’t put away. You manage to stealthily decaptchalogue a mass of t-shirts and jeans while Eridan isn’t looking, and when he turns around and sees your fresh new undespoiled pile, the way he blushes is definitely gratifying. You’re going to master this alien romance thing if it kills you.

                When Eridan sets the husktop and grub on the floor in front of the pile, the title screen is looping a clip of the one troll stroking the other one’s face. You’ve got a few loops to study it, while Eridan adds some humorously-named alien blankets to your pile. You settle yourself down first, while he hits play on the video and comes to sit down beside you. Just like the video, you brush along his cheek with the back of your fingers, let them trail out along his fin. You thought Eridan was violet _before_ , well it’s nothing compared to what he looks like now.

                You kind of (definitely) don’t know what to do next, but you don’t think Eridan does either, and it’s… okay. You hold each other’s eyes for a moment—you realize you left your shades downstairs, then realize that you don’t actually _mind_ —before both of you laugh together and drop your gazes. You both watch the screen instead. That’s what you’re supposed to be doing, right? Watching the screen. And maybe you’re slowly shifting your wait so you can move your hand to try to find Eridan’s, because you are a very subtle, poised person who does everything with unspeakable subtlety and poise. And maybe partway through your search, you find Eridan doing the exact same thing. And then, just maybe, the two of you lean up against each other, hold hands, and watch the opening scene of the movie roll. Together.


End file.
